


Wings

by Ryah_Ignis



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Being human is not fun, M/M, Possible S10 Finale, Probably going to be AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 08:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3374423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryah_Ignis/pseuds/Ryah_Ignis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Everybody has a personal tragedy.  Humans can see it reflected in their eyes.  Angels can see it written in their souls.  </p>
<p>Castiel's tragedy was always Dean Winchester."</p>
<p>In which the Mark proves too much and stolen grace burns out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wings

Everyone has a personal tragedy—the first thing others think of when they see them. Humans can see it reflected in their eyes. Angels can see it written in their souls. When Sam Winchester’s friends from college say his name, it’s remembering poor, sweet Jessica Moore and the future that never was. The people of Lawrence, Kansas still sometimes talk about that poor young man who lost his wife to the fire. People talk about the Novak family down the way, oh isn’t it so sad, the father left and the mother lost it.

Castiel’s personal tragedy was always Dean Winchester.

Losing his grace was just as painful the second time, slipping through his fingers like water, draining through the cracks. He couldn’t help but be glad that Jimmy Novaks’s soul was gone, because now it would have been burning.

“Cas?”

Sam’s hand, warm on his shoulder, kept him grounded. Cas shuddered with the chill, gritting his teeth. One last gasp escaped without his permission and his Grace burned out. Surprisingly, the rest of him didn’t burn out with it.

“I am not going to spontaneously combust,” he informed Sam.

The hunter released his grip on Cas’s shoulder. He wobbled on his feet, but he managed to stay upright.

“Good. If you want to get some sleep, go right ahead. I’m going to keep digging.”

Cas was too drained to bother pointing out that they had gone through the Men of Letters library at least four times by this point without finding anything.

“Sam, I—”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around. Cas was about to protest, say that he didn’t need to be coddled, that he was a soldier of Heaven with or without his wings, but a wave of dizziness caught him off guard.

“Go.”

Cas staggered out of the room, trying and failing to be as inconspicuous as possible. Whether or not Sam noticed, he didn’t comment. Cas tumbled into the first bed he could find and closed his eyes.

When he awoke, it was to disorientation. He’d never get used to it. The sudden return from the darkness of his mind to reality always shook him. How did humans stand it? He supposed he’d find out.

Cas’s breath caught in his throat when he blinked the room into focus. Of all the rooms in the bunker, why did it have to be this one? It was if Dean had never left. The room was as neat as a barrack, but Cas knew far too much about Dean Winchester to not to notice that the room hadn’t just been stayed in—it had been lived in.

What had Dean said? That he was nesting? Accurate, for a man rebuilt by an angel to nest. Cas sighed and closed his eyes again. He’d rebuilt Dean from the atoms up, and now he was back in the fate Cas had saved him from.

“Cas?”

Sam tapped lightly on the doorframe, mustering a kind smile. They’d come a long way. There’d been a time that he thought Sam was an abomination. Now he was a friend.

“I’ve gone through everything the Men of Letters had on demons. The only cure…”

“Human blood,” Cas finished.

Sam sighed heavily and rolled his sleeves up.

“What are we waiting for?”

Cas stood as quickly as his aching head would allow.

“Can’t you just use blood? From a hospital?”

Sam shook his head. “We tried that already, remember? Maybe it’s the willingness of the donor that counts.”

“That’s the last trial. Completing it will kill you.”

He gave a wry chuckle. “And close the gates. Save Dean and rid the world of demons in one blow.”

Sam turned to leave, but Cas seized him by the arm. Even in his weakened state, his grip was still firm.

“I’ll do it.” Sam yanked his arm away, but Cas plowed on. “He sold his soul for you. Sacrificed your best chance at saving the world. If he came back to find you dead—”

“He’d what, do it all over? Good luck with that when all the crossroads demons are locked up.”

“I know him!” Cas snapped, aware that his voice was getting louder, but not finding it in himself to care. “I know him better than I know anything else! He’d come straight to join you and I don’t think I could—”

He broke off, dropping his gaze. How had his entire world been reduced to two tiny humans? There’d been a day when humanity had simply been a blip on his radar, and now, they were everything.

“All I’m saying is that I can do it. It’ll be fine.”

Sam looked doubtful, but he led Cas down to the dungeon anyway. Cas’s chest constricted at the sight. The _thing_ , the not-Dean, made an inhuman snarl and leapt for them. Sam’s face was impassive, but Cas was unable to hide his dismay.

“You, uh, want to confess?” Sam asked. “I can leave.”

Cas nodded, and Sam left the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. Cas took a deep breath, and when he spoke, it wasn’t skyward. It was the demon right in front of him.

“When I received my mission,” Cas began, the words sticking at first, but then coming faster and faster, “I didn’t want it. I was just a foot soldier. I did what I was told. The entire garrison was wiped clean in the descent. I was the only one to make it to you. All the others burnt.”

Cas shifted where he stood, a movement that would have carried the weight of his wings, but instead carried their ghost.

“I had scars, of course. Charred wings, but they damaged my vanity, not my Grace. When I reached you, you didn’t want to come with me. I carried you, kicking and screaming, to the top. I wondered then how a man could be righteous, but broken. I know that now. The only righteous men are the broken ones, the ones that never want to see anyone else suffer what they have.”

The demon sneered. Cas was suddenly very thankful for the gag.

“My duty was to watch. _Only_ to watch. You saw the aftermath of that. I’ve fallen more frequently than any other angel in existence. And I did it for you.”

He laughed, then, bitter and hollow and empty and so human that it hurt.

“Millennia wiped away by one tiny human. And that’s my confession, Dean. I’ve chosen, again and again and again. Every time, every single time, I’ve chosen you. And I will never _stop_ choosing you.”

He blinked back the all-too-human tears with his all-too-human pride and finished.

“I could confess, I could lay it all out, but I won’t. I’ve already done it. I know you know. That’s enough.”

Slowly, he picked up the syringe and pressed it into his arm. Sucking in a breath, he drew it free.

“Ready?”

The muffled curse from the demon said he wasn’t.

The process continued for several more hours. At last came the final dosage. Sam steadied him as he drew the last of the blood, his newfound human body shaking with the effort.

“Sam, there’s something I didn’t tell you,” Cas said softly as he pressed the syringe into the demon’s skin one last time. “I’ve killed a hellhound.”

Three things happened at once. Sam lunged for the syringe with a horrified shout. Dean howled in pain. And Cas’s arm glowed bright red with the fire running through his veins.

“No!” Sam gasped, pulling Cas upright. “No. Come on. Let it go.”

“No.”

Nothing good he had ever done was permanent. But this would be.

“It’ll be the two of you. The road. Monsters, ghosts. Like you want it to be.”

Sam shook his head. “No. Come on, Cas. Do this for me—for him. Let go!”

* * *

Dean woke an hour afterwards. Blinking furiously, the last few days nothing but a blur, he focused on Sam first.

“Sammy, what—”

His eyes fell on Cas.

Maybe it was a cruel trick of the universe. Maybe it was just a shadow. But Dean swore he saw charred wings.


End file.
